Be All That You Can Be
by NoChaser
Summary: After that one night stand and haunting promises to 'see me in your dreams', Brian's and Justin's lives took vastly divergent routes. Justin ends up at a place in his life no one ever thought he would be. Ultimately no one is happier about that than Brian


BE ALL THAT YOU CAN BE

:

Brian noticed him right away, standing with the familiar blond woman at the bar. He never forgot an ass, and that one was particularly unforgettable. The boy was older now, of course. He was much more filled out and defined, with biceps teasing the constraints of his t-shirt and a six-pack not even pretending to hide beneath the baby blue cloth. The hair was much shorter, nearly shorn actually, and lent an air of maturity by drawing the eye to that ultra square jaw. God, the memory of his tongue trailing the contours of that youthful jaw line… Fuck, how long had it been? Ten, eleven years?

_You can see me in your dreams_.

Brian had absolutely no idea how those words would come back to haunt him time and again over the ensuing years. He had been taken with the boy so thoroughly that he had freaked the fuck out for days. It had taken Brian months to realize that forgetting the boy was hopeless, that he had missed a crucial opportunity that could never be regained. Every trick was compared to him. And failed miserably. He had eventually chalked that one night stand up to a superb memory, relegated it to that special place one normally stores momentous events like a loss of virginity, and moved on.

And now here he was. At a backyard fundraiser for the new wing of the Vic Grassi House, talking with Jennifer Taylor. At the bar.

Brian thought he just might need a drink.

"Brian! Good to see you. But I must say I'm surprised to see you out for one of these pick-pocket affairs."Jennifer had known Brian Kinney since she helped him locate property for Kinnetik, his avant-garde advertising agency. They communicated well immediately, and her almost psychic understanding of his off-the-wall tastes led them to discover the old bathhouse together. She knew what a perfect statement it was for him. She also knew of his aversion to fundraisers.

"Hello, again, Jennifer," he greeted her as he leaned in to lightly kiss her offered cheek. "Yes, I normally avoid these events like a case of crabs, but Vic Grassi was someone very important to me. I thought it appropriate to at least make an appearance."

Jennifer raised one brow and gave him 'that' look. "Right. More likely, you value your balls and are just making sure Debbie leaves them where they are."

The beautiful young man shouldered Jennifer slightly as he smirked. "God, mom, you really have loosened up since the divorce."

"Mom?" Brian quirked one brow in question.

"Oh, I'm sorry Brian. Let me introduce you. Brian Kinney, my son, Cpt. Justin Taylor." The effusive pride Jennifer displayed during the introduction could not be ignored. She was extremely proud of her son. And Brian was, well, a bit stunned. The boy who had haunted him all these years was Jennifer  
Taylor's son? Cpt. Justin Taylor?

"Mom, it's just Justin. You know the rules." The stage whisper to his mother only confused Brian further.

"I'm sorry, honey. But I can't help being a mother. And now, I need to go and be a good board member. I'll see you both later," she called over her shoulder as she walked away.

Justin raised his glass to his lips, a bit stunned himself at the unexpected turn of events. He, also, had never truly forgotten the beautiful man who introduced him so magnificently to the joys of sex. And he, also, had never expected to see him again. He couldn't help the small curl of his lips as he remembered the one night the two men had shared, and he found himself struggling with the awkwardness of this moment.

The silence between them stretched on for seemingly endless seconds, but it wasn't empty space. Each man filled it with his own internal dialogue of memories, with knowing looks and overt appraisals of the other.

"You grew up well, Justin," Brian finally offered.

"I'm flattered to see you didn't forget me, Brian. It's been a long time."

"Yeah, it has. The night Gus was born, wasn't it? He's almost eleven now." Brian shifted his weight to allow him to reach his wallet, pulling out a picture of Gus. Justin took the picture and smiled that luminescent smile.

"He's beautiful, Brian. You must be a proud dad." The soft look on Brian's face was all the answer Justin needed. But there was a bit of melancholy in Justin's tone as he continued. "I can still remember the look on your face that night, when you held him the first time. You fell in love." And then a muffled laugh as he added, "God! You were so fucking trashed!"

Brian pulled his lips in between his teeth and looked out, abashed, beneath the long, dark lashes. "Yeah, not really one of my better nights."

"I don't know, Brian. From what I recall – and I'm told I have an excellent memory – it definitely had to be one of your better nights." Even at 28, Justin blushed a bit at the memory of that incredible night. And Brian was reminded of one of the unforgettable things about this man. One he'd like to reacquaint himself with.

"Do you live here? In the Pitts?"

"No, just visiting with mom for a few weeks. It's been a while since I've been here. I don't even know the city anymore."

"Then, Justin, allow me be your tour guide."

"Sure. I'd love to see the city with you." Justin graced him with another full-on blinding smile and pulled away from the bar. "Just let me tell mom I'm leaving."

As Justin turned to find his mother, Brian noticed the cane.

:

The ching of a bell on an old fashioned cash register. The pungent aroma of one too many greasy foods wafting from a half-hidden kitchen. The rough of the plastic seat, patched and held together with oddly colored duct tape. The glint of gunmetal studs that spell out an obscenity on someone's comfortably worn black leather vest. The sour-sweetness melting on the tongue from a signature lemon treat. It was all so iconic.

"God, I feel seventeen again," Justin laughed. Brian thought he had never heard a more strangely familiar sound. A sound he at once didn't know at all and yet knew intimately. Like his own heartbeat.

"You know, I came here a few times. After that night." Justin took a drink of the deliciously horrible coffee, then added another pour of sugar. "Kept thinking I might run into you." He took a second long sip.

"I'm surprised you didn't. My friends and I were here pretty much all the time back then." Brian thought of all the breakfasts, lunches and late night coffees he had shared with the gang through all those years. "Why didn't you keep coming in?"

"Life happened. I was outed and my parents found out. Dad shipped me off to some military school for the rest of the year. That was when mom filed for divorce."

"Christ…"

"No, it turned out okay. Life does that for the most part, I discovered."

"So, I couldn't help noticing. Why the cane?" Brian raised his cup toward the newest waiter for a refill, and fleetingly thought that they just weren't as attentive as they used to be.

"Ah. That." Justin reached down and patted his thigh for emphasis. "Afghanistan."

"The fuck! Afghanistan? What the hell were you doing in Afghanistan?"

"My job. I'm Army. Special Forces. Military school rubbed off on me." The look of abject shock that settled on Brian's face brought a smirk to Justin's. He knew he didn't fit the stereotype, even with the extra muscle and bulk he'd developed over the years. It was the baby face. The bane of his existence. He had to laugh out loud.

"You are fucking joking, right?" The twink? Special Forces? Christ!

"Nope. Serious as a bullet to the femur," Justin played with his coffee cup and huffed out a small laugh, which seemed to Brian to be missing a lot of humor. "After I graduated from military school, I went to West Point, then did a tour in Iraq. After that, on to Airborne and another year finishing up Q course, qualification course. For the last four years I've been based out of Ft. Campbell, KY with the 5th Special Forces Group."

"Jesus Christ, Justin. You were just a kid! Fuck, you wanted to be an artist!"

"That was a long time ago, Brian. A long time ago and… things change. I found something I wanted more. More than painting, more than fucking… although that is a very, very close second." He grinned.

There was a definite invitation in Justin's eyes and Brian didn't miss it. He knew the look. He'd used it on more than one occasion. And no fucking way was he going to turn down an invitation like that. He stood up and tossed a few bills on the table, turned to Justin and cocked his head. "You coming?"

"I sincerely hope so."

:

Justin knew he had changed enormously over the years, but as with any good fantasy, he had imagined Brian to be the same. Of course, like all fantasies, good or bad, they rarely reflected reality. Gone was the Jeep – in its place was a Jaguar XJ sedan. Gone was the sexy fuck-pad loft – replaced by a fucking mansion twenty minutes out of town.

"Holy shit, Brian… You seem to have done well for yourself." Justin's eyes grew large at the sheer opulence that was Brian's home.

"I've made a dollar or two. I've had the house for about six years, now. Bought it for the little prince." He smirked and, damn, it was fucking sexy.

"The little prince, huh? Guess that makes you the king?" Justin hung his cane on one hook of the coat rack and walked toward Brian slowly. Brian stood stock still, aware only of the beautiful, sexual creature approaching him and the tightening in his groin. He fastened onto the now darkening sapphire blue eyes and saw the raw desire. He might have let out a small groan under his quickening breath. He couldn't remember ever being so turned on, so _needy_ for someone.

"Uh..how's the leg?"

"Healing nicely, thanks."

"That's good to know."

"Glad you care."

"I care. Wouldn't want it to limit your flexibility."

"It won't," Justin breathed as he reached out one hand to firmly cup Brian's cock. "My flexibility is just fine."

"Christ…"

One of Brian's hands curled around the back of Justin's neck, the other gripped the short blond hair on the top of his head and pulled back sharply. The sound Justin made as he watched those wet, red lips lower to devour his own could only be described as feral – raw and primal. Then there was no more watching or thinking or planning. There was only the reality of mouths and hands, of craven need and pleasegodplease, and incineration as the fire inside threatened to consume them both.

:

Justin had no idea if Brian's bed looked anything like the altar he remembered from his night in the loft. They hadn't made it that far. The clothing had come off, piece by agonizing piece, and he lay sprawled beneath this amazing Adonis on the plush rug in front of an unlit fireplace, only the softening rays of the dying day illuminating their bodies.

"You are so fucking beautiful." His hands trailed over the smooth expanse of olive skin on Brian's back, trailing down to taught hips, to firm thighs. He hissed slightly as one slick finger entered him – then two. Stretching and filling him until the burn eased and he rocked against them, silently begging…

Brian pulled back so he could see Justin's face, watch as he entered him. God, he was amazingly beautiful. Gone was the boy he had fucked so many years ago. Lying beneath him was a man, muscled and toned and sure of himself in a way that only a man could be. He reached down and palmed the swell of those amazing ass cheeks, pulling Justin up onto his own thighs, scooping one pale leg onto his shoulder. Guiding his sheathed dick with his free hand he watched the wince from the burn cross Justin's face as he entered him.

"Fuck! You're tight…" His head fell back and his eyes closed and he struggled to pace himself, to make this so good, to not give into this ungodly need he felt to just take, possess, own…

"It's been… it's been a long time," Justin gritted out… and Brian knew. He just fucking knew! No one else had been here. No one else had taken Justin like this, fucked him. The cascade of emotion that poured over Brian at that revelation stunned him. He was awed and honored, and somehow overjoyed. And this was not like anything he had ever experienced before with a man. This was important. This was special. This was… them.

"It was only ever me." He didn't mean to speak aloud and his own voice rattled him a bit. He looked at Justin, relaxing now into his slow thrusting. Watched his eyes.

"It was only ever you."

And Brian was lost.

:

Neither man wanted to move. After what Brian and Justin could only describe as the pinnacle of their sexual lives, they just fucking didn't want to move. Justin, recognizing the seriousness that could be construed from this amazing evening, and not being sure it was such a good thing at this point, spoke first.

"We should just die now. There's no way it could get better than that."

"Okay. I'll kill you first." Brian panted out a short laugh, thought about slapping Justin's ample ass, and realized he simply couldn't make his muscles work that hard right now. He settled for kissing the top of the young man's head.

"Such a self-sacrificing man, Brian," Justin replied dryly as he rubbed small circles into Brian's smooth chest.

"You're right. I am." He relaxed under the touch of the younger man, and his thoughts wandered to a comment from earlier in the day. "Justin, a question."

"Sure."

"Today at the fundraiser, when Jennifer was introducing us, you mentioned something about her knowing 'the rules'. What was that about?"

"Military protocol… and an abundance of caution. The fundraiser could have been perceived, on some level, as a political statement. It's okay to attend them, contribute to them, whatever. As long as I don't represent the military in any capacity while doing so."

"So you stopped your mom from…"

"…introducing me by my rank. She can be a little too proud of that sometimes." Justin rolled onto his back and stared up at the vaulted ceiling. Brian raised up on one elbow, cradling his head in his hand.

"Of course she's proud. I'm sure she's aware of what it's taken for you to get where you are."

"She really has no idea, Brian. She's supportive of my career, but she has no idea what it entails. I love it – wouldn't trade it for anything, but it's not an easy life."

"So… tell me."

"God. How do I even begin?" Justin relaxed his head onto the arm Brian stretched out behind him and curled into the older man's side. "When my dad sent me away, I was devastated. I thought about suicide, tried running away… all the regular angst. Then I met Col. Trent. He was one of the military science instructors at the school. He knew. Took one look at me and knew that I was a tragedy waiting to happen. So he talked with me and mentored me. In so many ways he became my father figure that year. I grew to respect him more than anyone I'd ever met – his moral character, his ethics, his responsibility, his enthusiasm and love for who he was and what he was.

He saw something in me that no one else had ever really seen. A need to be part of something bigger than myself. Yeah, I was an independent little shit," Justin laughed a little at that obvious confession. "…but he knew I needed the structure and regimentation of belonging to something. He convinced me to apply to the Point. I was smart and thrived there. When I graduated and became active duty, I discovered Special Forces. It gave me something else to strive for, another adrenaline push." Justin reached over and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his pants. When Brian handed him a crystal ashtray, he tapped one out of the pack and lit it.

"And being a gay man in the Army? That something you had to sacrifice?"

"You can't really sacrifice being gay, Brian," Justin laughed and offered his cigarette to the other man. "Yeah, I sacrificed being openly out, but not being proud. I'm proud of who I am, Brian. All of who I am. Proud of being gay, proud of being a soldier, proud of being a man… But being all of those things are equal in my book. Which one can I put on the back burner? I can't just be a soldier in private. I can't just be a man in private. I can't just be gay in private. But I can choose when and where to fight for it. It's just another battleground. Just another war to fight. And, believe me, there are a lot of us in the battle."

Brian thought about his own life, his out and proud philosophy. He thought about Mikey and his battle to stay closeted at work. He thought about his own son and what he might have to face someday, because of his own sexuality or that of his parents. And he thought about Justin and his choices. Brian wondered if he had to choose his career – what he loved to do – or being open about his sexuality, what his choice would have been. Being a success financially and in his career was every bit as important to him as being open about his sexuality. He had been lucky and hadn't had to choose between them… but… what if he had to make that choice?

Brian tightened his arm around the blond beside him. The scared virgin boy had grown into a dauntingly handsome and accomplished man. He had faced adversity, even war, and came out with that beautiful smile on his face. No way could he ever fault him for his actions.

:

The last few weeks of Justin's leave had him healing well from his injury in Afghanistan. It also had him spending increasing amounts of time with Brian, and the more time they spent together the more they wanted to spend together. Dinners, movies, a short trip to New York for a shopping excursion… even Woody's, where Justin proved himself to be a hell of a pool player. But mostly, they talked.

Justin explained the dangers of his elite forces position and the necessarily close relationship he had formed with the members of his alpha team, all of whom knew he was gay. It had been a struggle on Justin's part to make that disclosure, but he knew a secret like that could mean life or death among a group that knew each other's snoring patterns and bowel movement schedule as intimately as they did. He had chosen to trust them with a piece of knowledge that could get him discharged and they, in turn, respected him more for that trust. He talked about his fears in the middle of the night while on mission, when he could at times feel the specters of failure and death hanging like a shawl across his shoulders. And how he still wouldn't trade his career for anything else.

Brian opened up to Justin about his childhood, something he hadn't even done with his best friend, Michael. Michael knew it from experience, from being there, but Brian had never once talked with him about it openly. With Justin, he bared his soul. He talked of the beatings, the neglect, the half-assed suicide attempts, his fears of being a father… of being _his_ father… and of his deep love for his son. He finally, after four decades of denial, admitted to the pain that he felt from the lack of love from his parents.

And Brian wondered why it felt so _simple_, so _right_ to give all this to Justin. Yeah, he had mellowed a bit around the edges with age. He was 40 now, after all. No longer the club boy, no longer tricking the way he had in his lascivious youth. His friends had all paired up and married up and split up, just to do it all over again. Hell, even Debbie was keeping house – perpetually it seemed – with the ex-dectective. During all that Brian had remained aloof, above it all when it came to matters of love and commitment and relationships. And on the rare night during those weeks when Brian found himself alone, he wondered for hours about the timing that brought Justin back into his life just as he was ready to open up, ready to wonder if there could be more for him. It was on one of those nights, almost three weeks after finding Justin again, that Brian understood the simplicity, the rightness – and the power of the reason behind that.

Brian hadn't introduced Justin to the gang yet. These days it was hard just getting the boys together for a quick beer, much less getting together for anything important. Just as with everything else, their lives had moved on. Families and job requirements and simply getting older had pulled them apart a bit, so they took what they could get. On this Saturday night, with Justin spending a private evening with his oldest friend, Brian found himself at Woody's with Michael.

"Hey, Brian! We missed you this week at mom's dinner. Had a hot trick?" Mikey always did like a fishing expedition.

"More like lots of hot work, Mikey. I've been busy."

"Well, you could still show up at mom's. You'd better be there tomorrow or you'll have to deal with her yourself." Brian sighed at Mikey's warning. He actually knew his friend was telling the truth, and it was a truth Brian didn't particularly want to deal with. Debbie was not one to let attendance at her weekly dinners slide without good cause. You don't show up, you deal with the wrath of Deb. Simple as that.

"I'll be there but I may be bringing someone. Tell Debbie to set another place at the table."

"_You_ are bringing someone? Who? You never bring anyone to the dinner." Mikey was right. Brian hadn't brought anyone to the dinners in all the years he had been attending. All of Brian's friends who were close enough to be brought to the weekly event were already part of the regular attendance. And, of course, Brian had never done boyfriends or even fuck buddies. He wasn't quite sure where Justin fit into his life right now, but he did fit. Somewhere.

"A friend, Mikey. Someone I met years ago and who is visiting town for a few weeks." Brian hoped that would be enough to satisfy Michael's curiosity. His friend was a bit possessive toward Brian and got a bit disoriented when Brian stepped outside of some stereotype of the stud. Brian laughed sadly to himself. He hadn't been that person for quite some time. Michael, however, seemed to have missed that memo.

"Don't give me that shit. I know all your friends, Brian. Who is it?"

"Christ, Michael. You'll meet him tomorrow if he comes with me. Now, I need a drink." Brian waived over the bartender, hoping to solve two problems at once – get a strong drink and get his over-bearing friend off his case. Michael had developed a crush on Brian at the tender age of fourteen, a crush which had gone on for years. Michael had been with his husband, Ben, for nearly a decade now, but there had been an ongoing issue of Michael's obsession with Brian. An obsession which at one time threatened the otherwise steady marriage.

"Hey, boys. Having the usual?"

"Yeah, Steve. Beam for me. Double, thanks." As Steve sat the glass on the bar he leaned into Brian and nodded his head toward the front window.

"Isn't that your hot blond pool shark?" Brian's gaze followed his, and there sat the hot blond pool shark, one hand full of beer, the other caressing that of a beautiful woman. Almost as if it had been practiced, Justin turned toward Brian at that very moment, cocked his head and gave him one of those heart stopping smiles. Michael turned and looked at his friend. The tender smile on Brian's face, one he had given up to this point only to his son, gave him away. As Michael turned in the direction of Brian's gaze and saw the man sitting there – a gorgeous blond man – he knew immediately that there was some connection, something stronger than 'an old friend in town for a few weeks'. He simply uttered, "Shit." Right then Brian knew there would be trouble with his oldest friend. Right then he didn't fucking care. All he cared about was the man smiling at him from across the room.

:

"So, after all these years I finally meet the face of God," she smirked.

"Daphne!" Justin's laughter was called into question by the blush running up his face. Brian leaned back into his chair, quirked one brow and just stared pointedly at the laughing pair.

"The face of God?" he asked.

"Shit. I don't fucking believe this," Justin mumbled and hid his face behind his hands for a couple of moments before deciding to just man up. "God. Remember, Brian, I was _only_ seventeen!" he whined and laughed again.

The woman Justin had introduced as his best friend, Daphne, decided to fill in all the details. It was, after all, a best friend's job.

"The day you dropped him off at St. James, after what I later learned – in detail – was one fucking unforgettable fucking experience, our Justin here was in a kind of fugue state all day. His body was there but his mind definitely wasn't. He said, and I quote 'last night I saw the face of God and his name is Brian Kinney', end quote." Brian snorted, Daphne laughed her brilliant laugh, Justin dropped his head onto the table, and Michael…well Michael was simply trying to pick his jaw up off the floor. He remembered that kid. This was that _twink_! One of Brian's tricks!

"Daph, you wound me." Justin dramatically mimed a stake being driven through his heart. "And on that embarrassing note, I'm going to take a piss. It seems I've lost a bit of my pride. Perhaps I left it in the bathroom earlier." Justin reached for his cane and walked away from the table, running his hand through the hair at the back of Brian's neck. Brian leaned into the touch.

"He's that trick! That twink you picked up the night Gus was born? This is the guy you plan to bring to mom's tomorrow? Christ, Brian…"

"Michael…" Brian's tone held a strong warning for his old friend.

"Brian… he's a trick. You fucked him, you moved on. Let it go." Michael's crush where his long time friend was concerned was glaring.

"Are you _sure_ this guy is a friend of yours, Brian?" Daphne was stunned and angered by the behavior of this obnoxious man.

"I'm his best friend," Michael retorted angrily.

"Well, you sure as hell don't act like it." Yeah, Daphne was pissed.

"Brian, he's an old trick, and a gimp, for Christ sake!"

"Michael, shut the fuck up!" Brian himself was angry and embarrassed by the behavior and cruel words of his friend. "Who the hell do you think you are? My mother? I don't think even she would have behaved this badly."

As Justin returned to the table he heard the raised voices and noticed the tension in both Brian and Daphne.

"Hey. You're drawing quite an audience here. What's going on?" he asked as he placed his hand on Brian's shoulder.

"Oh, nothing. Michael was just leaving." Brian squared his gaze on Michael across the table, letting him know he needed to leave. Now. Michael returned Brian's look, stood up and left without a word.

There was an uncomfortable silence at the table for a few moments. Suddenly, Brian stood and reached out both hands for Justin and Daphne.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm ready for a game of pool. How about it? Daphne, you and me against the shark boy?" with his tongue in cheek, Brian's look gave an apology he didn't voice. The smile Daphne gave him almost rivaled Justin's sunshine smile.

"You're on, Face. But you do know he can still beat us both with his bum leg _and_ one arm tied behind his back."

"Fuck, yeah," Justin boasted with a snort, heading for a pool cue.

:

Brian had been awake most of the night going over the disaster of an evening with Michael at Woody's, trying to make some kind of sense of things. Michael had always been possessive of Brian. That was a given, a known quantity. And Brian was honest enough with himself to recognize his own contribution to the situation. He had, in many ways, led Michael on. Not with promises of some kind of relationship, but simply by not having anyone else in his life that Michael had to compete with. Shit. He realized how very unhealthy that sounded, even to himself. Why would Michael, as a friend, feel he had the right to compete with anyone in Brian's life? Because Brian had allowed it. He had allowed Michael to own the only emotionally supporting role in Brian's life – to be the most important person to Brian, other than Gus. Brian had needed Michael. Michael had needed Brian. It worked.

Until it didn't.

:

Brian looked over at the man sleeping next to him. The pale, taut skin over well muscled arms and chest. The sensual pouty mouth that brought pleasure to Brian in more ways than he had ever imagined possible. The white blond hair, grown out just a bit more in the last few weeks, shining against the dark blue of the bed linen. The trim, narrow hips bearing bruises from Brian's own hands from their vigorous lovemaking. He couldn't call it fucking. That didn't _begin_ to describe the experience of sex with Justin. Even at their most primal, most animalistic, there was a connection that brought their sex to a higher place than the most intimate fuck he had ever had with another man. It was lovemaking.

Love-making.

As Brian stared down at the surprisingly youthful face, looking even younger in sleep, devoid of the worries and tensions of waking hours – as his fingers traced the soft skin of that square jaw, the velvet of closed eyelids, the sweet pillows of those full lips – he knew he was falling.

Had already fallen.

He was in love with Cpt. Justin Taylor. The fantasy of Justin as a boy was surpassed by the reality of Justin as a man.

Brian spooned into the back of the beautiful man in his bed, wrapping his arm protectively around him, and closed his eyes to sleep. He fell asleep with the hint of a smile touching his lips, his last conscious thought was that reality was oh, so much sweeter than fantasy.

:

Debbie was surprised to see Brian walk into her house with a… what? A date? Sure looked like one to her. Brian had never brought anyone to her dinners before. For that matter, she didn't think Brian had ever taken anyone, besides Michael, _anywhere_ before. But this… this looked different. This was more than a friend. The looks they gave each other, the small knowing smiles. The quiet word in the ear. A casual, possessive arm around a yielding shoulder, or a light hand on the center of the back. And she hadn't missed the cane or the way Brian had carefully placed it on the coat rack for the young man.

Yeah, this was more than friendship. What it was she wasn't quite sure. But it was a hell of a lot more than anything else she had ever witnessed with Brian. And her heart was jumping for joy! It's about goddamned time! The man is in his 40's, for Christ sake. About goddamned time.

"So, Justin, how long have you known our Brian?" She would get to the bottom of this mystery, one question at a time, if necessary. Since he had taken it upon himself to help her finish up the meal, she would take advantage of every second.

"Well," Justin laughed, "…that's a tough question to answer."

Shit. He was going to play that game, was he?

"Now, kid, I've been known to ask a few tough questions in my time, and that wasn't one of them. Believe me."

"Are you badgering the kid, Deb?" Justin rolled his eyes at Brian's use of the endearment 'kid'. Debbie using it was one thing. He could be her kid. But Brian? Well, when you are sleeping with someone, 'kid' isn't exactly what you want them to call you.

"Hey, old man." There.

"I'm not fucking old!" Brian responded in mock anger, slapping Justin's ass for emphasis.

"I'm not a fucking kid!" To prove the point, Justin stuck his tongue out at Brian.

"No," Brian laughed, "…you're definitely not that. But I fucked you when you were." He whispered the last part close to Justin's ear, the heat and moisture from Brian's breath instantly creating a tightness in his jeans.

"To answer your question, Deb, Justin and I met outside of Babylon when Justin was just seventeen. Now, eleven years later, we meet again. He's Jennifer Taylor's son."

"No shit? You're Jen's kid?" Carrying the last of the dishes out to the large family table, she ordered everyone to sit and eat or get out. No one left. They knew better.

Justin sat next to Brian with Ben on his other side. Michael, still stinging from the episode at Woody's the night before sat next to Ben. So far he was avoiding any contact with either Brian or Justin. Ted and his partner, Blake, and Emmet and his partner, Drew, sat on the opposite side of the table, with Debbie at one end and her boyfriend, Carl, at the other. For the first time Debbie could remember, everyone had a partner, or date, with them.

"Everybody, in case you haven't met him yet, this absolutely gorgeous thing next to Brian is Justin Taylor, Jennifer Taylor's son."

"Um, thanks Debbie. Good to meet you all." As Debbie continued to introduce him around the table to everyone, she saw the smile on Brian's face. Yeah, this was something more.

"So, Justin," Emmett decided to break the ice. "…how did you meet our Brian?"

"Well, initially, we met almost eleven years ago. Outside Babylon the night Brian's son was born. I actually went to the hospital with Brian and Michael."

"Oh, dear Lord! I remember you. You were just a kid! So, has our own Mr. Kinney been keeping you tucked away for himself all these years?" Justin laughed when Emmett added, "Not that we could blame him. You are beautiful, baby!"

"Actually, Justin and I became reacquainted a few weeks ago, at the fundraiser for the Vic Grassi House. Jen is on the board." No one missed the meaningful look that passed between the two men as Brian spoke.

"What do you do for a living, Justin? We haven't seen you around here. I'm sure we would have noticed. Are you visiting?" Ted took up the mantle of inquisition for the newcomer.

"Jesus. What's with the interrogation? Let the man eat." It was an empty demand on Brian's part and he knew it. He was well aware that this would probably happen when he brought Justin to meet the family. It still rankled him.

"It's okay, Brian. Believe me, if my mom didn't know you already, you'd be put through the wringer with her, too." Justin was well aware that 'meeting the family' was a big fucking deal for anyone with Brian Kinney. Turning back toward Ted, he answered, "Actually, I'm visiting my mom for a few weeks. I'm on medical leave from my duties in the Army."

"Christ! You're in the Army?" Debbie was stunned. That wasn't exactly the career of choice for a gay man.

"Everyone, I'd like you to meet Cpt. Justin Taylor, U. S. Army Special Forces." Brian didn't even attempt to hide the pride in his declaration. He was fucking proud of this man.

"Special Forces?" Michael finally chimed in.

"We used to call them the Green Berets, Michael. The elite of the Army," Carl explained. "I was in the infantry, Justin. That's quite an impressive position you hold, an officer in Special Forces. Quite dangerous, as well."

"It can be dangerous at times, Carl. My leg can attest to that. I was injured in Afghanistan during my last deployment. But my team is extremely well trained and we work well together. They had my back, and we all came home alive."

"Jesus…" Debbie made the sign of the cross.

Michael was speechless. This… this was the twink from all those years ago?

"How… how long have you been in the Army?"

"Six years, Michael." Justin's thumb began a familiar pattern of twisting the ring on his right hand. "I graduated West Point and immediately went active duty. I've been with the 5th Special Forces for the last four years. Give or take a year for training." He grinned sheepishly at his own equivocation.

Brian called a halt to the questioning, telling the family to fuck off with their twenty questions, so they could actually eat, for which Justin's rumbling stomach was quite grateful. The conversations continued, however, in a much more informal manner. Listening to this bright, articulate and accomplished man beside him, Brian was once again amazed at how fate had timed everything so well, making sure he was ready and then setting Justin in his path. But as he continued to listen to the words, the experiences, the beliefs of this man he was growing to love more and more, he knew the fates had little to do with this. Justin wasn't just an incidental pawn in some galactic chess game, placed in just the right spot at just the right time to optimize love in Brian Kinney's life. Justin wasn't important _because_ Brian was ready. Justin was the very _reason_ Brian was ready. It was all him. And at that very existential moment all Brian wanted to do was tell him.

:

They both knew the time was coming.

They both knew exactly the date on which it would arrive.

But when it finally came, neither man was prepared.

Much like Brian, Justin had fallen painfully hard. And it was a fall he never expected to suffer. In more ways than one, his life was anathema to relationships and he had thus far avoided them like a plague. He couldn't be out in his job. Had to live his life under the radar. Couldn't hold his lover's hand in public. Couldn't post his lover's picture prominently on his desk as other men could do. Couldn't be greeted with a happy lover's kiss upon the return from a dangerous mission. Sure, they had all heard the rumors. There would be a repeal of the hideous DADT. But there had always been rumors, ones which never came to fruition.

Then there was the danger of his job. It was potentially fatal. Personally he was always prepared for that eventuality. His affairs were always in order – documents drawn and signed, beneficiaries named. But he'd never found anyone he remotely wanted as a permanent fixture in his life. Until now. And it scared the shit out of him. Not for himself, actually, but for Brian. Could he ask that kind of sacrifice of a man like Brian Kinney? Ask him to sit at home waiting faithfully while Justin was off on some mission or other? Hidden away – some closeted gay incarnation of the oh, so loyal Penelope anticipating the return of her Odysseus? Never knowing if he would even return alive, or perhaps so damaged the burden of care would be overwhelming?

No. He couldn't ask that. It simply wasn't right.

Brian was too vibrant, too vital a man to play second string to Justin's career or act the long-suffering housewife. And for the first time in his nearly thirty years, Justin knew how a broken heart felt.

:

Soft morning light filtered through the wide panes of the bay window in the master bedroom. It had been raining all night, slowing to a mere drizzle in the early dawn. Neither man missed the irony of the tear-like rivulets running down the smooth glass. They had made love all night, teasing and taunting each other for hours, withholding, releasing... Memorizing sights and tastes and textures - the erotic curve of a spine arched in the pleasure/pain of orgasm; the sweet pungency of a lover's cum spilling onto a welcoming tongue; the sensual sleekness of smooth, taut bodies beneath roughened fingertips… Each man stored those moments, tucking them away to be retrieved and remembered, to be loved and anguished over.

Brian's hands cupped the sides of Justin's face and just held it as he committed each feature to memory. His soft hazel eyes held onto heartbroken blue ones and he said the words – the ones he had promised never to allow himself to speak.

"I'm in love with you, Justin."

And the world didn't end.

"I know," the words cracked as he spoke and a strong, calloused finger dragged slowly across Brian's lips. "I'm in love with you, too."

And it was enough. For now.

:

They drank the strong coffee that had brewed as they showered. Justin had already packed his bag which was now leaning against the stair riser near the front door. Justin was ready to go, but he wasn't prepared to leave. He still had twenty or thirty minutes before he needed to leave for the airport taking him back to Ft. Campbell. He sat the cup down and pushed himself off the counter. Christ, he felt like an inexperienced teenager right now, nervous and unsure of what he should do or say as he stood still in front of this man who had come to mean so much to him.

Brian had no fucking idea what to do or say, either. So he drank in the vision before him. This was the first time he had seen Justin in his uniform. Gold trimmed blue trousers tucked tightly into spit shined combat style boots and hugging that phenomenal ass; black belt cinched perfectly around that narrow waist; starched and creased white shirt adorned with more ribbon and flash than Liberty Avenue during Pride week. On the side chair Brian saw the green beret indicative of Justin's assignment laying folded across the short black jacket needed to ward off the last of spring's chill. And the cane resting along the side. It would stay here with Brian.

"You look fuck hot in that uniform, Captain."

"I know," Justin teased. "Why do you think I joined the Army?" He grabbed the back of Brian's hair in a tight grip and buried his face in the man's soft shirt.

"God," Brian breathed out, "…I don't want you to leave."

"Brian, I…" Brian could feel the young man's body tensing.

"Don't. Just…don't." He kissed the top of the blond head and whispered, "I'm not going to let you out of my life. You do know that, don't you?"

Justin pulled away from Brian's arms, pacing a few steps before he turned back to look his lover squarely in the eye. "You don't have any idea what kind of life this is, Brian. This is no life for a relationship, no matter how much I want to have one with you. Christ, I've never been so torn in my fucking life!" He backed up to the counter, collecting his thoughts for a moment before continuing. "Brian, I can't even publicly acknowledge you! And I could be sent to god knows where for god knows how long at any time, and you would be have no choice but to sit, waiting in the wings to hear if I'm alive or dead! I can't do that to you! I won't. I chose this life. You didn't."

"I'm fucking choosing it now!" Brian yelled his frustration. "Do you think for one fucking minute that I'll worry less about you, that somehow I'll suffer less about you being deployed somewhere just because we don't _say_ we are in a relationship? That's bullshit, and you know it! I love you, Justin! I have never been in love in my life and I. Love. You. And I'll worry and I'll suffer either way. But one way will have some promise. The other way wont."

Brian watched the indecision play on Justin's beautiful face. He walked over and gently kissed him.

"We can't undo this thing, Jus… It's always going to be there. Now, you have to decide if we deal with it together… or alone."

:

The goodbye was bittersweet. Brian carried Justin's bag into the airport as any good friend might. He hugged him cordially as any good friend might. He shook his hand as any good friend might.

And, god, he wanted to kiss him just one more fucking time!

But he stood there and watched as Justin walked toward security. He watched as Justin looked back and caught his eye for a long moment. And when he could no longer see the blond hair and the beautiful form in the government's clothes, he turned and walked to his car. To wait for Justin to decide.

:

Spring melded into summer and Brian became closer friends with Jennifer Taylor. He shared his feelings about her son, she shared her fears for his safety, and Brian began to watch the news a bit more closely. Justin didn't call him the first month. Jennifer kept Brian up to date. He was continuing to heal and was back on an active work load, but not assigned to any missions at this point. His alpha team was grounded but continued to train until reassignment. Justin was studying a new dialect of a Middle Eastern language he already knew.

Brian continued to thrive at work, throwing himself even more into his business. It helped pass the time. He tricked a little in the beginning, but it was empty and left him with a longing that hurt more than the sexual frustration that led him to the trick in the first place. He drank a little more some nights, a little less on others. He flew Gus from Canada to spend the summer with dad, and told him about a wonderful man in the Army he would like him to meet. On the Fourth of July, Brian attended his first ever Independence Day Parade and fireworks. He might have teared up just a little with pride when the band played the National Anthem.

And yes, he worried and he suffered. It was inevitable.

:

It was in the evening on that July 4th when he received the email. Just two lines, but it said everything.

_I've decided I'm a fool. _

_Can I call you tomorrow? – J _

:

They spent four days together in a secluded chalet in the Smokey Mountains. They made love, spectacularly. They talked during long walks among towering pines. They talked about Brian's summer with Gus, about Justin's summer with indecision. They discussed the mechanics of negotiating a relationship over a long distance, with one of them in the Army and danger as an ever present possibility. And they made love again, with words of caring and commitment and promise on their lips because they both knew this was different. So very different than anything either of them had known or felt or imagined before.

Then Justin said it. On their last day while they were readying to leave for the airport, he said it.

"I'm being deployed again. A rescue mission. No longer than six weeks, I expect."

It was so matter of fact that Brian couldn't doubt Justin's certainty. This would be okay. It would have to be. God, he hoped it was.

"When?"

"Tomorrow night. The phone call I took earlier… verbal orders. We never know far ahead. Not for this kind of mission and I won't know the details until I'm back on base."

"Will you be able to keep in touch?" The churning in the pit of Brian's stomach threatened to erupt.

"No. No contact."

"Okay. Just remember… you have a hot older man waiting for you in Pittsburgh. Don't stay any longer than you have to." The levity felt flat. But he had to attempt it.

"Goddamn, I love you, Brian. I promise. Not a minute longer than necessary."

The date was Thursday, July 21, 2011.

:

On the morning of Friday, July 22, Brian told Cynthia he was staying home from work. He didn't tell her why.

Friday afternoon, Jennifer Taylor came over with beer and sandwiches, and a totally inappropriate movie tucked into her bag. They actually laughed a little once or twice.

Friday evening, with Jennifer snuggled away in one of the guest bedrooms, sleeping off a little too much beer and beam, Brian sat in front of his computer going over the email he had avoided for the day. And… there it was.

_Leaving in a few hours. Remember – not a minute longer than necessary. – J _

He almost missed the link at the bottom of the email. As he began to read the article from the New York Times his smile grew because he knew what Justin was telling him was so much more than the news in the article. When he reached the third paragraph, he laughed out loud with relief… maybe it could really be over.

"_As of Sept. 20, service members will no longer be forced to hide who they are in order to serve our country," Mr. Obama said in a statement._

He was repealing Don't Ask Don't Tell. Christ.

:

Sixty days. He still had heard nothing from Justin. Jennifer had contacted his commanding officer only to be told that he could give out no information. At least there had not been a condolence knock at her door.

As he sat in the diner, the door chimed but Brian, having heard it a million and one times before, and still feeling the pain of missing the man he had fallen so deeply in love with, didn't bother to look up from the contract he was pretending to review. He didn't bother to look up when first one, then another appraising gasp sounded from the booths cradling the two dozen or so other occupants who had settled in for their routine morning sustenance. He didn't bother to look up when the low whistle of appreciation came from the cook in the half-hidden kitchen. Then he saw the elegant shine on the toes of the black shoes at the edge of his booth, and the soft fold of the medium blue, gold trimmed trousers that brushed the top of that shine. He raised his eyes in increments, matching the increase in his heart rate and viewed the crispness of the crease gracing the front of those trousers and the powerful thighs they encased. He saw the hem of a dark blue coat with brass detailing, and the rainbow of ribbons on the left breast. And then he saw the smile breaking on that pale skin, that too short blond hair mostly hidden beneath a green beret. And his heart was beating so fast he could almost see it pushing his own jacket out in front.

"Brian Kinney?" The authority in that voice went straight to his dick and he was instantly hard as steel. He wasn't sure how he managed to smirk and gasp as the same time, but he did.

"I'm Brian Kinney," he breathlessly played along.

"Today is September 20, 2011…" the authoritative voice continued slightly louder, marking everyone inside the diner with its clarity and force. "…and I would like to say something to you, and I hope like hell that someone here has a damned video camera on their phone to get this on record." At the puzzled look on Brian's face, Justin straightened his spine and pulled back his shoulders.

"Go on," Brian stated simply, a bit bewildered.

"I am Cpt. Justin Craig Taylor, U. S. Army, Alpha Co., 2nd Battalion, 5th Special Forces Group." Justin paused, relaxing his posture only slightly, and reached out to caress the face of the beautiful man in front of him before completely taking Brian's breath away. "And I fucking love you."

The catcalls and wolf-whistles overwhelmed the diner, but neither Brian nor Justin heard them. They couldn't hear anything above the thumping of the other's heartbeat as they each tried to consume the other.

Brian would find out later that Justin had been back in the States for a few days, in debriefing with his command, but he wouldn't care. All that mattered – all that would ever matter – is that Justin was here. The most beautiful, the bravest, the best man he had ever met was here. With him. And he was never going to let him go.

:

No where near

'THE END'


End file.
